


She Ain't Heavy, She's My Hedgehog

by exmanhater



Category: Women's Hockey RPF
Genre: Animal Transformation, F/F, Femslash, Hedgehogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 17:12:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5833768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exmanhater/pseuds/exmanhater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amanda Kessel plans to spend her first week in Boston relaxing, unpacking, and getting ready to play hockey with a new team, not changing into a hedgehog and having to rely on Hilary Knight to take care of her. Too bad the universe doesn't give a shit about her plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Ain't Heavy, She's My Hedgehog

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to torigates for the beta! All remaining mistakes are my own. This plays fast and loose with the future of the NWHL and assumes that Amanda will recover completely from her concussion and join the Pride.

Amanda didn't think she was this stressed, to be honest. Sure, officially starting her career with the Boston Pride in just a few weeks has her in a swirl of feelings, both good and bad, but she hadn't thought it was leading to a transformation. Yet here she is in her new apartment, blinking up at her couch from the pile of clothes that fell to the ground when she transformed, and fighting the urge to roll into a prickly ball of hedgehog stress. She needs this break if her body has decided it's time, something she's learned to trust over the years. It's fucking inconvenient, but it's necessary, and since her first practice with the team isn't for a week, she won't be jeopardizing her future.

Before she can take a break, though, she has business to take care of—"the hedgehog protocols," as Phil calls them.

Thanking her mother for insisting she set up her emergency hedgehog phone first thing, Amanda trundles as quickly as she can across her living room floor to the small cell phone plugged into the wall behind her desk. It's a phone specifically designed for the elderly, which her brothers spend quite a bit of time teasing her about, but touchscreens aren't the easiest thing to navigate with hedgehog paws or a hedgehog nose. This works much better. Amanda taps out a quick SOS, the one that means "I'm okay, but I'm a hedgehog, have someone come get me." She sends it to all her contacts on that phone—her family—and finally rolls herself up, letting her hedgehog instincts make her feel as safe as possible.

This couldn't have happened at a worse time. Usually she can rely on it happening when she's visiting her parents or her brothers. Whatever triggers the change seems to try and do it in a place where she'll be safe, and it means that she's come to see her hedgehog vacations as a needed bit of relaxation. She doesn't need to worry about hockey or concussions or the future when her main pursuits are eating, sleeping, and chewing on her brothers' possessions, and it's always been a nice change.

None of her friends or teammates know about her occasional forays into hedgehog-dom, though—she's kept it as quiet as she can, which means only her family has any idea that this is a possibility. And fuck, Amanda thinks with a sinking heart. Hilary was planning to come over today to hang out and welcome her to Boston. How is Amanda going to explain her absence, and the presence of a random hedgehog, when she can't even answer the door or speak?

With great force of will, Amanda uncurls herself and sends another message. _hilary on wy ovr hlp_

Whoever gets the message should be able to find Hilary's number and stop her from discovering Amanda's secret, and now it's safe to nap.

She wakes up from a doze when she hears her front door opening. For a moment she's so disoriented that she tries to stand up and walk to the door, and the attempt sends her into a somersault. When she looks up again, Hilary is standing in her living room, phone held against her ear and a confused look on her face.

"—got here, okay? Slow down, Phil. Wait. There's a hedgehog staring at me. Why is there is a hedgehog staring at me, and where's Kess?"

Amanda groans, which ends up being a squeak by the time it makes it out of her hedgehog mouth, and curls herself up again. Of course Phil was the one who got her message first. Fuck. Her family understands why Amanda hasn't ever let friends or teammates get close enough to find out about her transformations, and no one tries to convince her to do otherwise anymore—except for Phil. He'd never tell anyone himself, of course, but she doesn't quite trust him not to meddle somehow. Especially with Hilary, who Amanda… has complicated feelings about.

"It's terrified," Hilary says. "I can't even see its face it's so curled up. I've never seen Quinton act so stressed."

Amanda can't bring herself to uncurl. She feels numb—being a hedgehog usually makes her feel safe, makes her relax, but this is like something out of her worst nightmares. The helplessness wells up in her throat when she thinks about how little she can do to control her own circumstances like this. Sometimes that's a gift, but right now it's almost unbearable.

"—okay, okay, I'm putting you on speaker, jeez," Hilary says, and then Amanda can hear Phil, his voice tinny but calming through the phone's speakers.

"It's okay," he says. "Hilary's gonna look out for you, okay? She's a hedgehog expert, you'll see."

Amanda instinctively uncurls at the sound of his familiar voice. Hilary kneels down slowly, trying not to scare Amanda away, and Amanda stays where she is.

"I know you said it was a family emergency, but I can't believe Kess just left without getting a hedgehog-sitter or texting anyone," Hilary says. "That's not like her at all. Are you sure she's okay? Since when does she have a hedgehog, anyway?"

Phil grunts, which Amanda recognizes as his standard media grunt, the one that means he's done talking. It relaxes her further, and she inches forward, sniffing at Hilary's hand. She smells like she always does, Amanda thinks, but as a hedgehog, Amanda's senses are much more immediate and perceptive. She can smell the soap Hilary must have used to wash her hands recently, and the faint hint of sweat behind it.

"Amanda's fine," Phil says. "She just had to leave suddenly. Our aunt might not make it."

"I'm sorry," Hilary says. "That's awful."

"So you'll take care of the hedgehog for us?" Phil says, not acknowledging the sentiment.

"Yeah, of course. What's its name?" Hilary asks. "His? Her?"

There is a long silence, and Amanda pauses in her scent inventory of Hilary to look at the phone. Phil's going to do something horrible, she can tell.

"She's a girl," Phil says. "So, uh, call me if you need anything, but Amanda should have all her supplies there, and you'll be fine. Her name is Kess, it's an old family joke, bye!"

Hilary pulls the phone back up by her face. "What? Phil—" She looks at Amanda and sighs. "I guess it's just you and me, buddy," she says. "C'mon, let's find your gear. Goddamn enigmatic Kessels. I hope their aunt will be okay."

Hilary looks around and sees Amanda's phone laying on the kitchen counter, and sighs again. "Forgot your phone, too, Kess? Geez."

Amanda watches Hilary dig through several of her unpacked boxes marked "miscellaneous" and come up with various pieces of her hedgehog supplies. Thankfully, Hilary doesn't notice the second cell phone on the floor. Amanda doesn't ever stay in a tank or an enclosure so there isn't anything like that in her boxes, which Hilary appears to find odd, judging by her frown when she finishes putting together everything else.

"Fuck," Hilary mutters, glancing from Amanda, still on the floor, to the pile of stuff she's fished out of the surrounding boxes. "How am I supposed to—" she mutters to herself.

Amanda stays still and tries to look as relaxed as possible. Presumably Hilary is going to have to pick her up at some point, and she'd like to make sure no one dies in the attempt.

"Okay," Hilary says, one hand holding Amanda's favorite hiding place as a hedgehog—an old plastic container that she usually keeps behind her couch. "Apparently you're a free-range hedgehog, but I'm gonna have to get you over to my place somehow, so how do you feel about climbing in here?"

Amanda creeps forward and looks up at Hilary, who sets the container down on the floor and reaches out tentatively to nudge Amanda into it.

"Come on," Hilary says as Amanda moves into the container. "There we go, nice job, buddy." 

Amanda has to suppress a bit of fear when Hilary picks up the container. She's very picky about who she lets pick her up, but she doesn't have any other options here, and she trusts Hilary. It's almost a surprise when she realizes that, and it keeps her mind off the trip to Hilary's car and then her apartment.

##> ##> ##>

Meeting Hilary's pet hedgehog is an experience Amanda will never forget. Hilary doesn't put Amanda in with Quinton, but she does set her down in a small enclosure right next to his once they're inside her place.

"I'm gonna let you roam free," Hilary says. "Don't worry. Just gotta get this all set up first. Quinton, this is Kess, she's gonna stay with us for a little while." She lays out Amanda's water and food dishes, but Amanda isn't paying her any attention, too busy staying still and watching Quinton watch her.

Quinton sniffs in her direction, then squeaks. "You smell weird," Amanda hears at the same time, but it definitely isn't Hilary's voice. Amanda stares at Quinton. It couldn't have been him—that would be ridiculous. She's never been around real hedgehogs before, but she's pretty sure that she can't speak hedgehog just because she's temporarily shaped like one.

"Are you a cat?" the voice asks, suspicious, and it is definitely Quinton. Amanda thinks his face looks a little confused, and he's still sniffing the air around her.

Amanda opens her mouth to answer and then stops, unsure how to try and speak hedgehog on purpose. When she first tried to communicate as a hedgehog, she yelled at her brothers and it sounded like English to her, but they always said it was nothing but animal noises. She supposes that she should just speak.

"I'm not a cat," she says, and Hilary doesn't notice, so it must have come out as a hedgehog noise.

Quinton's nose wrinkles. "Then what are you?" he asks. He doesn't sound mad or threatened, just curious.

"I'm a human," Amanda replies. "At least, usually. Right now I'm shaped like you. I'm a hedgehog."

Quinton doesn't reply in words, or at least, Amanda doesn't think he does. Instead, she gets hit with a scent/feeling/thought that she understands as confusion.

"I'm like Hilary," she tries, turning to point a paw at Hilary's back. "I'm not usually like this."

Quinton's confusion doesn't really clear up, but at the mention of Hilary he gets excited. "Hilary!" he says, but again it's not really a word so much as a feeling, something Amanda's hedgehog brain interprets as _safety_ with a hint of _food_.

Amanda laughs, which comes out as a strange little hedgehog snort. "Yes," she says, and sends the feeling back to him as best she can. "Hilary."

"You guys making friends?" Hilary says, coming over to them. She's so tall like this, could easily hurt a small hedgehog by accident, but Amanda doesn't feel afraid. _I trust Hilary,_ she tells herself, just to try it out, and it feels like the truth.

Maybe this hedgehog holiday won't be so bad.

##> ##> ##>

"No, that's not what I said," Hilary tells whoever she's speaking with on the phone the next morning. Amanda can't hear the other side of the conversation, but Hilary is upset, and it's making tension rise in the room. Quinton starts scrabbling at the side of his enclosure, and Amanda watches as Hilary lifts him out and visibly tries to calm herself.

"It's not like that, though," Hilary says, having resituated herself on the couch with Quinton on her thigh. "It's not about women's hockey or men's hockey and which game is better. It's all hockey. I just want girls to have the same chances boys do."

Hilary is quiet for a moment, and then deflates. "Yeah," she says, sighing. "I know you agree with me, sorry. It's just so frustrating. I can practice with NHL teams every week and the only press about it will just say how different the women's game is and how amazing it is that I can even keep up with the guys."

Amanda bristles in agreement. She hasn't ever really talked to Hilary about it, but she definitely knows the feeling behind Hilary's words. It had always been hard, growing up with a brother who had a real shot at the NHL. She loved the game as much as Phil did, but she had always known that college hockey would probably be it for her, and he hadn't had to curb his ambitions like that. She's still grateful that she and Phil hadn't let that drive a wedge between them. She's also grateful that the NWHL exists and that she does have better options than she'd ever imagined she would as a kid, but she understands Hilary's frustration. _Better_ doesn't mean _good enough_ , and the uncertainty of the NWHL's long term future is concerning. Hilary's been talking to a bunch of people about it, and Amanda knows enough of the situation from her own negotiations to put together that Hilary is upset about the situation between the CWHL and the NWHL. Put that together with how frustrating it always is to advocate for women's sports in the general sports world and… Amanda is surprised Hilary is as optimistic as she is, to be honest. But she's not supposed to be worrying about hockey, she reminds herself, and makes a chirping noise to see if she can get Hilary off the phone.

Hilary glances over at Amanda's spot on the couch. "I've gotta go," she says into the phone. "Yeah, let me know if it happens, bye."

Amanda walks over and climbs up Hilary's free leg, the one Quinton isn't currently occupying. She nudges at Hilary's stomach until Hilary takes the hint and picks her up.

"Where are you trying to get?" Hilary asks, sounding amused. She lets Amanda scrabble into the hollow between her neck and shoulder, and Amanda cuddles in carefully. She can't tell Hilary she understands, but maybe she can help Hilary feel better this way.

"You guys are so sweet," Hilary says, holding Amanda close and petting Quinton, so Amanda thinks she understands what Amanda is trying to say.

##> ##> ##>

The next two days go by quickly and Amanda is surprised to find herself enjoying her hedgehog vacation, even without her family and in unfamiliar surroundings. Quinton doesn't stop being confused about her presence and why she doesn't smell right, but he happily shares space with her. It's soothing to spend the time when Hilary is out of the apartment just resting or playing as a hedgehog, without having to worry about anything.

Hilary likes to let Quinton roam free when she's home, so most of the time when she's there, he trundles around behind her from room to room like a cat. When Amanda tries to point this out to him teasingly, he starts calling her a cat again instead and avoids her for half the day, so she sticks to straightforward communication after that. Hedgehogs apparently don't get sophisticated or nuanced feelings.

Amanda spends most of the time when Hilary is around waiting for her to sit down so Amanda can crawl up her side and settle on her shoulder, just under her neck. It's where she always sits on Phil when she's a hedgehog, and while Hilary is completely different from him, the comfort Amanda gets from it is the same. It's peaceful, and she's starting to think that maybe, just maybe, it would be okay to have a friend who knew about her hedgehog secret.

Hilary talks to Quinton and Amanda like they're people, which Amanda would have guessed about her before. It's great to have it confirmed, even though it's impossible for Amanda to reply the way she wants to, making her resort to hedgehog squeaks and physical affection.

"Hey, little Kess," Hilary says on the second morning. "Fruit for breakfast, okay? I'm not going to let Amanda say I didn't treat you right."

Amanda sniffs eagerly at the bowl of fruit and digs right in. Hilary has fancy hedgehog dry food she's been using to feed Amanda that Amanda has always refused to special-order herself because she's not actually a hedgehog. It's pretty good, though, and she might have to give in once she has opposable thumbs and internet access again. Hilary also has freeze-dried crickets, and after the fruit, that's been Amanda's favorite. She'll have to ask Hilary where she gets them.

"Hungry, huh?" Hilary says, and sets down a dish for Quinton as well before sitting in between them on the floor. She brushes her fingers over Amanda's back carefully, and Amanda doesn't even have to stifle an instinctive urge to bristle because this has become a familiar part of her day now. Hilary feels like family.

Except for the part where Amanda wants to kiss her. She's trying really hard to avoid those kind of thoughts while she's a hedgehog—she has no idea what arousal in this body is like and she doesn't want to know—but it's hard when Hilary spends most of her time at home in little shorts and soft tees with fabric that's almost worn through. Amanda knows this for a fact because she spends a lot of her time on Hilary's lap. Still, she's had a while to get used to this crush, and she manages to avoid thinking about it too much. The simplicity of thought that comes with being a hedgehog is a blessing.

"Want to watch some hockey?" Hilary says, when Amanda and Quinton have finished their breakfasts. She doesn't wait for an answer, just heads to the living room and connects her laptop to the TV, pulling up an old NHL game. Amanda thinks it's the Bruins, but she never pays too much attention to the actual hockey when Hilary watches. Her eyesight doesn't quite work on the TV set; the motion is too hard to track and she'd much rather climb up Hilary's arm to her shoulder and nestle in, listening to Hilary's steady pulse and erratic game commentary.

Amanda falls asleep there, content. When she wakes up it's dark outside and Hilary is carefully balancing her laptop on her thighs without dislodging Amanda or disturbing Quinton on her other side. Hilary's talking, and it takes Amanda a minute to figure out that she's on Skype with Phil, _her_ Phil.

"I promise, she's fine," Phil says. "It's just been pretty hectic around here, and she left her phone. But she wanted me to tell you she's really glad you're taking care of Kess. We appreciate it."

Amanda instinctively inches closer to the sound of Phil's voice, and falls with a plop on Hilary's stomach.

"Whoops," Hilary says, scooping her up and setting her back down on her perch. "Careful, little Kess. Phil will think I'm not treating you right."

"I can tell she's fine," Phil says. "I should go, but don't worry about Amanda. She'll be sad she missed you."

"Okay," Hilary says, and says goodbye without any hesitation. Then she grabs her phone and calls someone, sighing in frustration when there's no answer. "Ugh, answer. Fine, this long message is your own fault. Look, do you think Kessel might be mad at me? Not Phil, Amanda. You knew that. She's with her family and I'm taking care of her hedgehog but she hasn't actually talked to me directly since she got drafted to the Pride and I'm worried I might've… done something? Been too aggressive? Who the hell knows, she's so hard to read. I just want to whine a little, asshole. Call me back."

Amanda squeaks in distress. She doesn't want Hilary thinking that—that somehow Amanda's mad at her. It's so ridiculous. Hilary's been nothing but friendly ever since they found out Amanda would be coming to Boston. Amanda nuzzles into Hilary's neck and tentatively licks at Hilary's skin. She doesn't know how else she can communicate right now, so this will have to do.

Hilary laughs. "That tickles, you pest." She pets Amanda's head, though, and sighs again. "Your owner is a mystery and a half," she tells Amanda. "Someday I'm going to crack it."

 _I want you to,_ Amanda thinks, and she's not scared at the thought. When she's human again, she's going to tell Hilary that herself.

##> ##> ##>

When she does change back that night, it takes Amanda by surprise. It's been almost three days, which is about the average for her transformations, but she hadn't been tracking the time as carefully as she usually did. She hadn't even thought about what would happen exactly when she changed back, which is even more surprising. She'd been so busy making plans to be a better friend to Hilary that she'd forgotten about the inevitable awkwardness of having to explain random animal transformations.

It's late evening, and Hilary is again watching game tape on the couch, Quinton safe in his enclosure and Amanda on her lap. Amanda is enjoying the warmth of Hilary's legs in the uncomplicated way in which she enjoys things as a hedgehog, and then she's twisting and changing and—

She's naked in Hilary Knight's lap. Amanda can feel her face burning and she sits in dumbfounded shock for a moment before scrabbling to grab the blanket from the back of the couch and curling up under it as far from Hilary as she can get.

"Oh god," she says, not daring to look at Hilary's face. "I'm so sorry, I can't actually help it, it just happens, but I'm so sorry that Phil made you take care of me and I just—I'm sorry!"

"Wait," Hilary says, and Amanda chances a look. Hilary's bemused expression is starting to fade into shocked understanding. "You're Kess? I mean, you're the hedgehog Kess, and Phil said—wow, so your aunt's not dying, is she?"

"No," Amanda replies in a tiny voice, shaking her head. Of course Hilary would be upset that they'd lied. "He just wanted me to be taken care of, and he knows I—he knows you have a hedgehog."

"So does this happen… often?" Hilary asks. 

"Often enough," Amanda says. "Um, could I borrow some clothes? And then I'll get out of your hair, I know having an extra pet this weekend wasn't exactly in your plans."

"Of course," Hilary says. She shakes her head, as if to clear it, then disappears into her bedroom. She comes back with a pile of clothes and hands them to Amanda, biting her lip like she's holding back millions of questions. Amanda's afraid to find out what they are, because she's not sure she can survive having someone else know her secret and not be okay with it. More specifically, not having _Hilary_ be okay with it would be awful. She hadn't been this worried as a hedgehog, but the reality of changing back in front of Hilary is overriding her previous calm.

Amanda grabs the clothes with a mumbled thank you and shuffles into the bathroom to change. When she emerges fully dressed, Hilary is still in the living room, standing awkwardly by the couch. 

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Hilary says. "I can drive you home, or you could stay."

"No, I'm—I'll be fine, I can walk, it's not that far." Amanda's voice breaks. She can't handle Hilary being so nice when she ought to be disappointed or mad or just—something. She's sure once Hilary processes everything, she won't want anything to do with Amanda again. 

"But," Hilary says, and Amanda doesn't wait to find out what else she means to say, just runs out the door and flees back home. Hilary doesn't stop her.

##> ##> ##>

Two days and several scolding phone conversations with Phil later, Amanda makes her way back to Hilary's, this time as a human being. Hilary has sent her several "you okay?" texts, and Amanda feels bad about ignoring them and not returning Hilary's clothes and about—everything. She knocks softly, and swallows down her fear when Hilary answers the door and says "Oh, hi, Kess. Um, come in?"

"Thanks," Amanda says, following Hilary to the living room, clutching her bundle of clean borrowed clothes to return. "Thanks for letting me in and thanks for taking care of me and thanks for the clothes? I mean, Phil says I was an ungrateful brat for just changing back and running out of your place even though the whole thing was actually his fault, so I wanted to just say thank you, and to apologize for being so rude," Amanda finishes. Her heart is beating so loudly she's amazed Hilary can't hear it.

"You weren't rude," Hilary says. "I mean, thanks for washing my clothes, but it wasn't a huge hardship or anything. You—uh, you left all your hedgehog stuff here, so."

Amanda sighs and sets the clothes down on the coffee table, since Hilary hasn't taken them from her and thrown her out yet. "I'm sorry," she says again.

"I didn't mind taking care of you," Hilary says slowly. She's wearing soft sweatpants and a Pride hoodie. It makes Amanda wish she could be a hedgehog again and just curl up under Hilary's ear without any worry of being rejected. "You're my friend. I just—I don't feel like I know you at all outside of hockey, and now you've been in my house, seeing everything about me and—"

"I spent the entire time I had a concussion terrified that I'd never skate again," Amanda blurts out. "I wet the bed until I was six. Sometimes I turn into a hedgehog and no one knows but my family because I've always been scared it would change how people see me—change how _you_ see me."

Hilary's face does a complicated laugh-frown that settles into confusion. "What?" she asks.

Amanda's face heats up, and she wishes for her hedgehog sense of smell and the way it had made it easy to sense Hilary's mood. "Uh, since I heard private things about you without you knowing it, it's only fair if I share with you, too?"

"Okay," Hilary says, her face relaxing into a small smile. It looks real, private in a way Amanda is now used to seeing as a hedgehog, but not as a person. Hilary sits down on the couch and pats the cushion beside her. "Tell me why it’s always been so difficult to get past your surface layer."

Amanda sits down carefully, tucking her hands under her thighs. She's trying, but it's still easier to not look Hilary in the eye while she talks. "I've always had two kinds of people in my life—hockey people and family. It's never felt safe to get too close to the hockey people. I mean, what exactly was I supposed to say? 'Sorry, I turn into a hedgehog when I get stressed out'? Who the hell would believe me? And if they saw it happen—if they weren't trustworthy, they could ruin my career."

"Well, yeah, that wouldn't be easy," Hilary says. "But do you really think any of your teammates would blackmail you over that? Because we wouldn't."

Amanda looks up, guilt rushing through her. "No—god, no, I'd never think that."

"I'm not saying you should just tell everyone you meet," Hilary says, resting her hand lightly on Amanda's back. It reminds Amanda of sitting on Hilary's shoulder as a hedgehog and once again she misses the easy simplicity of being able to show affection without words.

"No," Amanda agrees. "But you're right—none of my friends would hurt me purposefully."

"Exactly," Hilary says. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to _know_ you."

Amanda wrinkles her nose. "I believe you," she says, and it's the truth. "But _why_? I'm just me."

Hilary laughs quietly. "You're someone worth knowing, Kess. You always have been. Maybe it took this to get me to make a move, but I've always wanted—"

"Wanted?" Amanda says. She sways closer to Hilary without any conscious intent, eyes dropping to her mouth.

"I'm going to kiss you now, unless you tell me to stop," Hilary says, and Amanda's breath hitches. She opens her eyes and watches Hilary lean in, tries not to keep any of her feelings hidden. The kiss is quiet and soft, just a slow press of Hilary's lips on hers, and Amanda can't stop smiling long enough to turn it into anything else. It's still perfect.

Hilary runs a hand down Amanda's neck, then reaches up to push a strand of hair back behind Amanda's ear. "Well, that's a start," she says, grinning in a way that makes Amanda's knees weak. "Wanna see where this goes?"

"Yes," Amanda says, and she's never meant anything more.

##> Epilogue ##>

"No."

"Oh c'mon, just once?"

"Fuck no," Amanda says, holding the hedgehog-sized Team USA jersey and pom-pom hat as far from her body as her arms will let her.

"But babe, you'll be so cute! And it's for the Olympics," Hilary says. "Don't you want to support your own team?"

"It's not normal to want to dress up your girlfriend like a doll while she's temporarily shaped like a hedgehog," Amanda says.

Hilary grins. "It's not normal to _not_ want to dress up hedgehogs, even if they are your girlfriend. Look, I got Quinton a Team Canada outfit, and we'll stage a match and take pictures, and you'll win. Please?"

Amanda makes the mistake of looking right at Hilary, whose big brown eyes are being used to devastating effect. Her stomach swoops and she sighs, because she can tell that designer hedgehog photoshoots are in her immediate future. "I might not even change," she warns. "And if I don't, you're just outta luck."

"Oh my god, babe, I swear, this is gonna be great, you're perfect, thank you!" Hilary kisses her noisily on the cheek and heads over to the front hall where she produces… a suitcase?

"Is that an entire suitcase full of hedgehog outfits?" Amanda says, incredulous. "Hilary Knight, if you think for one second that I'm just going to let you use me as a cuteoverload.com model, you have—mmmph!"

Hilary cuts her off with another kiss, a real one this time, and Amanda quietly resigns herself to reality. If Hilary wants a hedgehog model, she's going to get a hedgehog model. And really, there isn't much Amanda likes more than snuggling into Hilary's neck as a hedgehog, so she can handle becoming internet famous as her own alter ego in exchange.

"You're a menace," she tells Hilary, her voice fond and eyes grinning.

"To you and all of society," Hilary agrees, and at least she admits it. Amanda's going to have to get that on tape. She'll have plenty of time for that—Hilary is hers to keep.

[the end. ##>]


End file.
